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They frowned. ‘Well, no. We never found out who it was.’
Abigail was thinking this conversation was a waste of time. She was no nearer to finding out anything more about the cottage and why Daphne had wanted Toby to have it. ‘Did Daphne have any children that you know of?’
Lili knew Daphne hadn’t had any children with her husband. That was why she’d dropped in the phrase,that you know of.
They both shook their heads adamantly, no.
‘Of course, when her husband retired, they didn’t live in the cottage, so she holiday let it.’
Abigail knew that already. She looked at her watch. ‘You know, I have to get back to The Potting Shed.’
Abigail was just walking to the door when one of them said, ‘Then she died and it went to the foundling.’
Abigail stopped in her tracks and whirled around. She’d had no idea they might know something about it too.
‘Yes, the baby boy, just hours old, who was left in the storm porch – so the rumour goes.’
Abigail stepped forward. ‘What rumour?’
‘They thought his parents might have been just passing through and perhaps their car got stuck on the road, and they left the baby there while they tried to free it, but something happened to them.’
Abigail frowned. It sounded far-fetched to her. There were high winds, gale force, bringing down trees and power lines, but as far as she was aware there had been only one fatality that night in the local area, and that was her father.
Abigail looked from one sister to the other. ‘What doyouthink happened?’
They exchanged a glance. ‘We think it was someone local.’
‘Local? You mean someone abandoned their new-born baby?’ Abigail couldn’t imagine such a thing. ‘Who?’
‘No idea. Strangest thing, though, isn’t it? That Daphne wanted that cottage to go to the foundling.’
‘Why is it strange?’ Abigail asked. She was thinking of what Ray had suggested about Toby’s connection with the cottage.
‘We knew Daphne. At least, she used to come in sometimes, to support our shop. She wasn’t one for soppy sentimentality, that’s for sure.’
Marjorie looked at her sister and nodded her head in agreement. Turning to Abigail, she said, ‘There is no way on god’s green earth she would have given a stranger’s son her cottage unless she had a bloody good reason.’
Abigail stared at them. ‘Have you got any suggestions for what that bloody good reason might be?’
The sisters shook their heads. ‘We are completely stumped, aren’t we, Mabel?’ said Marjorie.
‘Oh, yes. No idea. Although we’d like to meet him, the man who now owns the cottage. See what he has to say.’
Abigail swallowed. They did not know yet that he was gone. ‘Well, I’d better get going.’
‘Shame, it’s such a lovely little cottage,’ said Marjorie. ‘Guess he won’t like it when he turns up.’
‘What do you mean?’ She frowned at them, suddenly feeling absurdly protective of the little cottage by the sea. What wasn’t to like? ‘You said he won’t like it?’ They’d liked every week they’d spent on holiday together there.
‘If he hasn’t found out already,’ Mabel commented to her sister.
‘Found out what?’
‘Oh, about his rather unpleasant neighbour in the lighthouse next door.’
‘Oh, right.’ Abigail should have guessed they’d been referring to him.
If she’d thought having him next door for a week when she’d gone there on holiday had been bad enough, living next door to him was much worse. At least when they’d been at the cottage on holiday, they’d spent most of their time going out, and it certainly wouldn’t have occurred to them to attempt any gardening.
